


The Legend of the Strawberry

by eris223



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Legends, Legends of Heda & Wanheda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 10:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris223/pseuds/eris223
Summary: A tale of how Heda and Wanheda reconciled after a quarrel that sent one of them fleeing into the forest.





	The Legend of the Strawberry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ai_Laik_Ash10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ai_Laik_Ash10/gifts).



“It was a time before time was recorded. A time when Heda, with Wanheda at her side, brought peace to a war-torn land. A land where blood had demanded blood, and death and battle were the only sure things in life. The Great Wanheda told her of another way, and Heda, in all her wisdom, paused and listened. Defying years of tradition, Heda abandoned the old bloody laws and adopted a much more difficult way of life, one of peace and forgiveness.

It wasn’t easy, this new culture, and although their love for each other was unmatched, Heda and Wanheda often quarreled. Both wise, both stubborn, both passionate, they argued over proper ways to enforce this new era of peace. They argued if punishment was even necessary for those who refused to release the ways of the past.

It was after one such argument that Wanheda, tired of the same quarrels that never seemed to come to a conclusion, left. The moon was high, the stars bright, as Wanheda weaved through the abandoned streets, making her way to the dark forest ahead. Heda stood on the balcony of her tower, watching her love flee into the forest, as anger pulsed through her veins.

It was only a moment before she was racing out of the tower, determined to catch up, to apologize, to vow to work together once again. But Wanheda was too far gone. For every step Heda took, Wanheda took two.

The sun was rising in the distance, beams of soft light cut through the thick trees, and Heda paused, throwing her head up to the sky. She closed her eyes and prayed to the past commanders to give her the strength and wisdom to find her lost love. They were silent, and with a heavy sigh, she continued to follow the path in front of her.

As Wanheda continued east, she thought of nothing, and it was freeing. She admired the beauty of the forest, the way the trees swayed with the breeze. She inhaled deeply, allowing the scent of pine and earth to invade her senses, all the while walking farther and farther away from her love.

Heda quickened her pace but was soon out of breath. She collapsed against a strong tree trunk allowing her tired muscles a break. She shook her head as she pondered how her Wanheda could still be so far out of reach. It seemed almost mystical.

It was then that she heard the commanders whisper in her ear.

They asked if she was still angry at Wanheda. ‘No!,’ she cried. They asked if she wanted her love back. ‘Yes!,’ she eagerly answered, for she did. Wanheda was the first person in Heda’s life who understood the burden she carried. She was the woman who supported her, who advised her, who challenged her. Wanheda was the love of Heda’s life, and she desperately told the commanders that very fact.

And so the commanders took pity on her. They found Wanheda in the forest and began to tempt her. They caused the finest patch of huckleberries the world had ever seen to grow at her feet. They were plump and luscious, but Wanheda passed by without paying any attention. Farther down the path, the commanders grew blueberries, but Wanheda gave them no notice. Blackberries, raspberries, gooseberries, nothing would tear the Great Wanheda from her stubbornness.

All the while, the Mighty Heda followed, resolved to find her despite the increasing distance between them. The commanders admired her conviction and determined to tempt Wanheda one final time. They covered the ground with a berry the world had never seen. It was a brilliant red, heart-shaped, dotted with tiny seeds on the outside. Wanheda finally paused when she was overwhelmed with a fragrance she had never known.

She bent down and plucked a single piece of fruit from the vine and twirled it in her hand as she admired the aroma. She wrapped her lips around the plump berry and sighed as the sweet juice danced on her tongue. Wanheda smiled as she finished the first berry, but her face quickly fell.

A wave of guilt and sadness crashed onto her soul as she realized that as decadent as the fruit was, it meant almost nothing if she couldn’t share it with the woman she loved. Wanheda shook her head at her stubbornness and anger before bending down. She plucked dozens of berries off the vine, placing each one carefully in the bag slung over her shoulder. With a quiet smile, Wanheda turned on her heel and headed back the direction she came.

The pair met not long after on the forest path. Both babbled their apologies, ready to forgive and work together once again. After a warm lengthy embrace and an even longer kiss, Wanheda reached into her bag and pulled out a perfect red berry. She offered it to Heda, who graciously accepted her first taste of the beautifully sweet fruit.

Hand in hand, Heda and Wanheda walked slowly out of the forest, more in love than when they entered it.”

The young woman smiled at the crowd of small children sitting in front of her, hanging on to every word. “And that is how the strawberry came to this world.” She held up the plump berry and took a bite. “So, whenever you see a strawberry, remember of how they came to be, and use it as a reminder to always forgive those you love.”

A little boy crinkled his nose and wiped away a little bit of strawberry juice as it ran down his chin. “But I thought you brought the seeds with you on your spaceship?”

“We did,” the young woman nodded. She leaned forward and with a conspiratory glint in her eyes, lowered her voice. “But where do you think we got the seeds from in the first place?”

“So it’s a true story?” A young girl marveled.

“Of course it is. Heda and Wanheda were as real as you and me sitting here right now,” the woman answered, leaning back once again. The children surrounding her all grinned, their smiles big enough to brighten even Murphy’s day.

“Tell us the story of how they met again,” the girl directly in front of her begged. She bounced excitedly in her seat as the other children began to chime in. “Oh, yes! Please!” They all chorused until the storyteller finally gave in.

“Okay, okay.” She held up her hands in defeat and waited patiently for the eager children to calm. When her rapt audience was silent, she leaned forward once again and began her tale.

“Heda waited impassively on her throne, twirling her favorite dagger in her hand. She paused her movements only for a fraction of a second when the flaps of her tent were pushed open. Heda had never seen a woman as beautiful before. But it wasn’t just her blonde hair, it wasn’t her blue eyes, and it wasn’t the little beauty mark above her lip. No, it was the fire behind those blue eyes. It was her posture as she approached. It was the way Wanheda immediately challenged her, unafraid, courageous even, ready to defend her people, that caught Heda’s attention.”

“Madi! Madi, there you are,” a slightly deep feminine voice called out, interrupting the story. She approached quickly but stopped when she saw the circle of children all staring at her. “What are you doing?”

Madi gestured grandly to her audience. “Telling these young ones the legends of Heda and Wanheda.”

Whispers began to erupt from the group of children, and Madi barely contained her smile.

“Look at her hair.”

“She has blue eyes!”

“There’s the mark. It’s her! It’s Wanheda.”

“Madi,” Clarke spoke with a tone that Madi knew was not to be challenged. “We need you in the clinic.”

Madi sighed and shrugged an apology to the mass of kids currently staring at her. “I’ll finish the story later, okay?” she promised as she stood from her seat. The children collectively grumbled but knew better than to argue.

Madi followed Clarke towards the clinic, and just when they were out of earshot, Clarke turned to her. “What were you telling them?”

“I told them about how strawberries came to be,” Madi answered innocently.

“What does that have to do with me and Lexa?”

Madi didn’t miss the longing sadness in Clarke’s voice as she said her name. She knew it would always be there, but Clarke has had time. Not to move on, no, she was pretty sure a person could never truly move on from their soulmate, but Clarke has had time to accept.

Confident that talking about their relationship wouldn’t really upset her any more than usual, Madi just shrugged. “Nothing, really. I based part of it on your time together, but it’s mostly just a fun legend I made up. You two are the heroes of all my stories.”

Clarke stopped in her tracks and pulled Madi’s arm, urging her to turn. She waited until Madi was facing her, and with a deep sorrow, shook her head. “Madi…”

“You are, Clarke.”

Clarke sighed, and Madi knew exactly why. The unbearably strong, stubborn, wise woman in front of her never thought her actions were worthy of note. Every single person in her life continuously told her how terrible her decisions were. But Madi knew better. She understood. The same as Lexa. But that would never be enough to sway Clarke’s mind.

“I’m not a hero. Lexa was. Don’t tell of Wanheda. Make Heda the sole focus of your legends.”

Madi knew there was no arguing with Clarke about this, so she just smirked and changed the subject. “What, you don’t want me to tell them about the time Wanheda spit in Heda’s face or held a knife to her throat?”

Clarke grimaced, but Madi could tell she was pleased with the change in topic as they continued their trek towards the clinic. “She showed you that?”

“She’s shown me everything, Clarke,” Madi grinned.

“Everything?” Clarke faltered as she stopped again. Madi spun around to find her mother figure beet red and looking unusually bashful.

“Oh, no! Clarke!” Madi cringed, waving her hands frantically in the air. “No, not everything! Why would she- No! She would never- No, ugh, I know you two... but no!” Madi scoffed as she shook her head, willing her brain to not conjure up its own images of that.

“Okay,” Clarke chuckled nervously. “I think we’ve both hit our embarrassment quota for the day. How about you just tell me this strawberry tale?”

Madi blew out a long breath of air, grateful to have that awkward conversation end. She walked side by side with Clarke and started her legend. “It was a time before time was recorded…”

“It was 137 years ago.”

“Shush,” Madi dismissed with a wave of her hand. “'137 years ago' doesn’t sound nearly as epic as ‘it was a time before time was recorded,’ so let me tell my legend how I want to tell it.”

“Okay, my little battling bard,” Clarke laughed. “By all means, continue.”

“It was a time before time was recorded. A time when Heda, with Wanheda at her side, brought peace to a war-torn land…”

***

And so the legends of Heda and Wanheda spread throughout the new world. Tales of heroic battles, ultimate sacrifices, and undying love were told for generations. From parents to their children, and grandchildren after that, Heda and Wanheda were etched into everyday life. They became the heroes the children pretended to be during play. They were the great leaders women and men aspired to be. So even though the true story of Heda and Wanheda was tragically cut short, their lives and love proved to inspire countless generations for hundreds of years to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! 
> 
> The first part of this fic is a reimaging of a Cherokee legend called "The Origin of Strawberries," and fun fact, November is Native American Heritage Month! If you liked that part of the story, I highly encourage you to do a little google search and read about some of the truly fascinating legends that so many of us have never heard of before. 
> 
> I know in the grand scheme of things this fic isn't going to change much in regards to awareness of Native American culture, but now, at least a few of you know that there is a Cherokee legend about how strawberries came to be, and perhaps that's a good start.
> 
> Anyway, Ash10, this fic is for you!!!
> 
> -EMM
> 
> Oh! PBS has some pretty cool and interesting documentaries and shows up on their website for Native American Heritage Month if you have the desire to learn a little about it.


End file.
